


Threshold Effect

by foxysquid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Galra Empire, Murder, POV Haggar, Parent-Child Relationship, Romance, Science, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Villains, space spouses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: Quintessence gives Emperor Zarkon strength, but it can also take. It is up to Haggar to maintain the proper balance of energy. As time passes, ever greater sacrifices are required, and now, drastic measures must be taken. Haggar commandeers Prince Lotor’s assistance, but at the crucial moment, she hesitates.This was originally written forCome Back For Me: A Zarkon/Haggar Zine. It was meant to be a companion piece to and continuation ofScientific Method, from the same zine.





	Threshold Effect

There was a profound silence here, where only those of exceptional rank—or those who had been summoned by their betters—were permitted to venture. The ship itself was so well-insulated and well-engineered that its internal workings made little noise, although a faint machine hum was audible to those who spent the time and attention to listen for it. Other than that, there was the sound of space itself, both far less audible and far more vast. A sound more like a presence than a noise: it somehow contained everything, yet at this distance from all things, nothing could be heard.

Nothing, unless one had the means to amplify one's hearing, which Haggar did. If she focused her attention, she could pick up so much more than the low noises that emanated from the machinery of the Central Command Ship. She could extend her senses throughout this vessel, to detect the low tones of voices, the rasp of breathing, the beating of hearts: the steady and unsteady patterns of life. She would need more focus and more motivation to find a particular individual or make out distinct words, but she had a sense of activity, a sense of life—of the empire and its people. Of its power.

Her movements here were unimpeded, and few events transpired of which she was unaware. The universe was full of whispers, if one knew what to listen for, which Haggar did. She passed a clear panel set in the exterior wall of this corridor and paused to gaze out at the space beyond. The body of one of the star system's planets was in view: enormous and gaseous and unsuitable for life, yet rich in resources that could be harvested for the benefit of the empire. Yet no resource was so valuable as quintessence. The engines hummed with it, and even her own body's pulses and pauses were directed by its power.

She closed her eyes. Among all the noises on the ship, there was one she was drawn to most strongly and swiftly, one she always returned to: a deep rhythm, accompanied by a low rushing, like a pump operating deep underwater, sending vibrations through the depths. There was rarely any variation in that sound, but today it was noticeably faster than usual. Its pace had increased by a fraction. Not fast enough to cause her concern, but enough that she perceived the difference.

It was a sound of supreme importance to her: the heartbeat of the emperor.

It was essential to the entire empire. The Galra relied on their emperor for his guidance and strength. Among his subjects, she was one of many, although her hearing was the best, and there were few who could equal her in service.

"High Priestess Haggar." 

Haggar was rarely taken by surprise. She had heard the soldier's footsteps approaching her, although she did not turn until his voice accompanied them. She did not speak. She waited. She was aware what he was about to say, but it was necessary to wait and listen and observe everyday formalities. It was best not to give away too much and allow others to suspect how much she knew.

"The ship from Karsjin has arrived."

"I'll inform the emperor at once. Does it carry what was requested?"

"Yes, High Priestess."

She had no more use for the soldier, and she left him. The emperor's heartbeat led her to him. He was waiting on his throne, motionless. He gazed at the stars as she had, not long before. When the emperor was near her, she could monitor him. She preferred to remain by his side, not for her own benefit, but for his. He would meet no treachery in her presence. "Sire, the ship you've been expecting has arrived."

He was slow to respond, but when he did, he turned to focus the reddish glow of his eyes on her. She waited with immovable patience. There was no need to rush. They had ample time. "And the prince?" he asked.

"He has been recalled, as you ordered."

The emperor rose to his feet. "Prepare me."

"Yes, Sire." 

Her examination room was more quiet and more private than almost any point in the ship. Adjacent to her laboratory, this wide and sterile room was used solely by herself and the emperor. No one else had reason to step inside, and anyone who did would have reason to regret it.

Haggar removed his armor herself. She went through the steps of the process exactly as she had countless thousands of times before. She could not remember when she had first carried out this task, or how she had learned to do it, but she did not need to think to know in what order the pieces were to be disassembled. The task had become all but automatic. The plates were thick and heavy, but her power made the burden light. There was no weight she could not lift. Zarkon leaned down to allow her to do her work. Few people living had ever seen the emperor bent down and stripped of his armor.

It wouldn't do to have anyone else view him in this state. Only she saw how, beneath his armor, his large form was surprisingly spare: his broad ribs prominent and his stomach sunken. His scales were dull in color, though they were incalculably strong. At the sight of his bared body, she hesitated, a rare event for her. 

It was the quintessence that had made the emperor so powerful and lengthened his lifespan. Zarkon's body had hardened and lost all excess, but it had gained much. That was all to the good, but Haggar had uncovered an uncomfortable secret in her research: a threshold. It was a point like a doorway, beyond which everything changed. The threshold was the point at which the energy of quintessence began to damage his physical form, breaking down his cells even as his inner strength increased. Energy was not everything, in this case. Mass was needed to hold it in, to bind it into the recognizable shape of the emperor.

She could feel the energy now, standing so close to him. There was radiance within, but his cells were starting to deteriorate. The quintessence healed and aided him to a miraculous extent, but once he reached the threshold, his structure was compromised. It couldn't be called a weakness. It was nothing so profound, because it could be fixed. One thing could heal the damage quintessence had done: more quintessence. Erode and heal, erode and heal. She had created a cycle, but one she knew she could sustain indefinitely.

Haggar knew what was required of her, but a stir of emotion stayed her hand. What was it? Warmth settled in her chest, as tightness gathered around her collarbone. The emperor must be preserved—and strengthened—at any cost. That was her duty. The feeling she was experiencing was loyalty. It was an endless devotion, because there was no limit to it. She would serve him unquestioningly, eternally. Or as long as they both existed, but why shouldn't they become synonymous with eternity?

"What is the meaning of this delay?" asked Emperor Zarkon, his voice harsh and eroded. Eroded from what? Why would she think it sounded different, when there was nothing else to compare it to?

"No reason, Sire, and no delay. I am preparing my work. I will begin presently."

He fell silent again, his jaws closing. His face was lit not only by the room's own dim illumination, but by the glow that spilled from his eyes, at once both reddish and cold. Haggar held his gaze and kept her focus on him as she began her incantation. The glow of his eyes brought to mind another glow, one that was richer, golden, and vast, a sea of light. So far away ... It was too distant, like an ocean glimpsed from a mountaintop. Yet she wanted to reach it, and she would, if she could manage to travel far enough. If she could find the hidden way there, the exact right winding path.

An impulse drove Haggar to reach out and place a hand on him, so she did. Her fingers made contact with him, and he allowed the touch. Her blue skin looked brighter against his broad, gray back. His skin was thick, its texture slightly rough. She remained in that pose, concentrating on the contact joining them. Moments passed, the emperor did not object or question her again. He waited. Haggar gathered herself in, then let herself expand. Power burst from her hands, a darkness that shimmered. It swelled to envelop the emperor, and she felt warmth and energy encompass her body, too. Like a fire that she could withstand without pain, a fire that her body, like a rare metal, could safely hold without being burned.  
Zarkon.

She would never refer to him that way out loud, without a title or word of respect attached, but in her mind, his name came to her unadorned as she gave him her fire. He let out a sound that resembled a sigh, but the emperor did not and could not make an utterance as fragile as a sigh.

"Now, Sire," she said. "You are well prepared for what will come."

She smiled, and his gray jaws moved in a similar way. Like his body, his face displayed hollows that had not always been there.

"I will accompany you," she said. "This new process I've devised will augment your strength a hundredfold."

He did not question her or her work. He did not ask how she knew this or request to see her research. He needed no proof. She had said it, and that was enough for him. She felt the same way when it came to his orders. He did not have to provide her with a reason.

She reassembled his armor piece by piece. It was a servant's work, but it was work she knew and performed without hesitation. She wouldn't have trusted it to anyone else. When she was finished, she followed him out of the room. The lights set into the doorway flashed once as they passed over, then went dark again. If anyone else were to pass this way, an alarm would sound, and the system would shut down.

This room was more secure than her laboratory. She didn't want any part of her research to be accessed, but especially not that which concerned the emperor and his physical form. Her research went back thousands of years. She had made a complete study of him, documenting everything that could be documented. It was her great work. The research stored in the examination room would be unrecoverable without the key. No one could replicate that, because she herself was the key. Without her, intruders would find nothing but an empty room.

They weren't late for their appointment, because the time Zarkon arrived was always the correct one. At the docking bay, Prince Lotor was waiting for them, flanked by guards. The guards stood at attention, and their manner toward him was more like that of jailers toward a prisoner than subordinates toward a commander. Lotor bowed low, but instigated one of his usual conflicts as soon as he straightened. "My emperor, I respectfully request an explanation for my recall."

Haggar did not speak, because she had not been called on to speak, but she saw the prince's gaze slide from his father to her, his eyes narrow with dislike. His feelings toward her were a poorly kept secret.

"You're not owed a reason," said Zarkon. "You'll obey my orders without question."

Lotor opened his mouth, then quickly bit back whatever he had been about to say, but Haggar had glimpsed the spite that briefly transformed his expression before he composed himself again. He owed the emperor much, but he was ungrateful, willful, and had repeatedly shown disrespect bordering on rebellion. He was not enough like his father, which made him a disappointment. "May I then inquire why you detained and abducted hundreds of citizens of the planet to which I was assigned?" What right did he have to ask such impertinent questions? Lotor must have known their answers already.

"You may not," said Zarkon.

Although she remained silent, Haggar showed her support for Zarkon through her proximity to him, her bearing, and her expression. Everything about her presentation formed a picture of devotion, even when she did not speak. She made certain of that.

"Come with me," said Zarkon, instead of answering the prince's question. His voice almost softened. "I will show you. You'll better understand me this way."

Lotor was ill at ease, but he was hiding it well now, if not from Haggar. The prince's expression now formed a mask, its lips shaped into a faint smile. "If I could trouble you to listen to me for a few moments, Sire, I have made advances and observations that will interest you."

Zarkon was not interested, for he ignored his son's remarks. Prince Lotor didn't fully appreciate the importance of Zarkon, or the ways in which the empire had to act to maintain its strength. He spoke to Zarkon as if Zarkon were—a father, an ordinary family member who could be questioned, who might be fallible. Lotor's loyalty should have been as absolute as her own, considering his position. Zarkon had tried to make him understand. Haggar had seen his tolerance at work as he listened to his son's explanations and excuses. He had even given Lotor a planet to rule. Zarkon wouldn't have made so many allowances for anyone else.

The empire was like its emperor. Maintained and expanded by quintessence, but demanding ever greater amounts. The amount of energy needed to increase to meet the rising demand, so the empire expanded to produce more. Then, their territory's greater breadth required yet more power, so their borders had to extend further. If not, a point of threshold would eventually come for the empire. There would not be enough power to maintain it, and then— No, they would not reach that point. The only rational reaction to this continuing cycle was to keep generating more quintessence indefinitely, and to keep expanding the empire, indefinitely. She would do that. The emperor would do that. It was already decided. Their first priority was to find more sources of quintessence.

When they reached the bridge, Lotor was unsettled again. He still wearing that mask of his, but it had been shaken, and it was slipping. He radiated unease like a coming storm. He gazed through the viewing panel at the open space before them. "That ship..." The transport he had arrived in had undocked and was now passing directly in front of the Central Command Ship, with all its crew and passengers on board. "What is the meaning of this?" Lotor asked, in a quiet voice.

He should have known by now. Emperor Zarkon would answer his questions only through action. It was Haggar, not Lotor, who sensed what Zarkon wanted and acted in response to his desire. She knelt down and pressed her hands against the floor. Here, she had already made her calculations, and had created the detailed designs that were necessary to guide her power. She had already strengthened the link between her and her emperor. She could feel the life force inside him, pulsing there, beautiful. The floor lit up with a fine filigree of white light, a swirl of patterns and symbols that meant so much, but was only comprehensible to her.

"What are you doing?" Lotor demanded. "They've done you no harm. There's no need—."

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Haggar was aware of the prince's life force too, although she had made no effort to create a link to him. She could sense his mind. Beneath the forced composure threatening to crumble, a hot flame of panic blossomed. Why would she have any connection to him, particularly one as close as this?

There was no time to contemplate the oddity of it. Zarkon's presence was stronger and more demanding. His need was immediate and direct, and she understood it. She had prepared for him. Yet for an instant, she held both of them to her, father and son, with herself as a conduit between them. The three of them were linked by alchemical ties—and something else, also. It was strange and unlike her, but she hesitated, and not for the first time today. There was no reason to hold back. She could only do what had already been decided.

The air crackled. Electricity lifted strands of her pale hair, and Lotor's.

"No," said Lotor.

She let go of him, severing their accidental tie. Zarkon was what mattered. The emperor and his body. The body of the empire. She couldn't feel doubt, because none existed in her. She directed her power outward. She had done this before, but not on such a scale. Her power was growing, like the empire. Her awareness expanded, too. She could sense so much.

She heard her own heart beating.

She heard the prince's heart, distantly, like a sound in another room she had not managed to block out as completely as she had wished.

She heard the beating hearts of the aliens in the transport, quickening now with panic. They would have begun to sense what was about to happen. They must feel pressure. They must feel the first pangs of pain. Their life energies flared and flickered as her consciousness reached out to them. Their bodies shuddered like injured animals as she pulled at their energy, drawing it toward her. That was what they were: animals. They were flesh vessels that contained nourishing fuel, a resource to be harvested like the components of the gas giant. 

The real giant—stronger and more significant than any—was the heart of the emperor. Haggar would sustain and augment it. Her mind brushed against Zarkon's as she cemented their connection. Briefly, she glimpsed an inexplicable scrap of image, glittering among his thoughts. It was the image of a room full of people, in the center of which was a young woman in a blue and white dress. The woman was dancing as her dress swirled around her. She had closed her eyes, and she was smiling. This vision was as inexplicable as the link she had formed with Prince Lotor. Why were those people laughing? What did they have to be happy about? Some of those gathered were Galrans, but there were also members of other species, species that existed no longer. The image was bright, but fractured, without context or weight. It teetered on the edge of Zarkon's conscious mind and on the verge of her own, where it met his. It lay between them, but did not fully belong to either of them.

Haggar could have paused to study it and reflect on what it meant. It didn't fit within the world she knew, so why was it in the emperor's mind, swept to the side of his conscious thoughts? She could have pulled it to her, but she pushed it away. There was no time for frivolous inquiries.

Instead, she reached out to the little fires that made up the lives of the people on board the transport ship. She gathered them up. They condensed into pure light, then rushed toward her. She let the light envelop her. She held it close, as she held her loyalty and faith. There was nothing she couldn't hold within her, for his sake. She paused to savor the feeling of all that power filling her, along with the idea and the image of Zarkon. Another moment, and she would strip those people of their lives and pass all their energy to her emperor. His body would be healed and his life extended, always extended. His eternal body, in union with hers.

Lotor cried out that she should stop, that this was unbearable—but she could bear it, and it was too late.

She gave everything to Zarkon. It was a price she was overjoyed to pay.


End file.
